


Orbit

by tessykins



Series: Eclipse [3]
Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:44:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Claude are called to testify before the Ruling Council on Radus. Once there, they are embroiled in Conglomerate politics, devious plans, sexual tension, less than legal police work, and epic space battles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  


The thing that gets to Peter about space is the silence.

The few times he’d been in space, he’d been on Helix luxury liners—wealth bought barely any transition between planet and space.

This ship—the _Sala Maria_ —is hopelessly outdated. It had been the only ship leaving Onale VII that was low-tech enough to accommodate Claude’s lack of a skinsuit. But the lack of technology showed. The ship was virtually empty—filled with gypsy spacers, their varied work histories displayed proudly in the lines of company tattoos up and down their spines. They traveled from planet to satellites to planet, selling whatever they could get their hands on. Peter found their easy-going manners a refreshing change from the structured manners of the Company.

But it makes for an eerily quiet ship. Night cycles are filled with mechanical noises—the thrum of the engines, the hiss of the air cyclers—but nothing human. Peter is used to the noises of human habitation, and more importantly, to the sound of Claude’s breathing beside him. Claude sleeps in the sleep-sack on the other side of their small cubicle. At night, Peter closes his eyes and feels horribly alone.

And then there’s the lack of gravity. Peter really hates that.

Gravity was expensive luxury most spacers couldn’t afford, and they’d adapted to living without it. Peter had lived his entire life on the ground; the first few days of their trip, Peter had suffered from horrible zero-grav sickness.

The worst part is how easily Claude dealt with the lack of gravity. Peter supposes that was some sort of metaphor for the man himself, but he’s still feeling to sick to think it through. Claude’s family had been Maintenance on a Half-Circle Industries satellite—Half-Circle being the foremost company in avionics—and Claude had lived most of his young life in space.

But no matter how much Peter hates space, he couldn’t ignore a personal summons from the Ruling Council.

Claude pushes off the wall of the common room with a laugh and tumbles through the air.

Peter averts his eyes, fighting nausea. The bastard is doing it to annoy him.

“You just have to think about it the right perspective.”

“Upside down, you mean?”

Claude floats lazily beside Peter, anchoring himself on the wall. “Zero-gee can be a lot of fun, kid. You ever had sex in space?”

Peter stares at him for a moment. “No…”

Claude grins manically. “D’ya want to?”

Peter throws his head back and laughs.

Claude shoves him, sending him for a lazy loop across the room. He kicks off, following him. Their trajectories intersect, Claude’s arms circling Peter’s waist. Peter holds on to Claude’s shoulder as they spin slowly. “You were serious, weren’t you?” He laughs.

Claude’s eyes are dark and hot. “’M always serious about you, Pete.” He presses forward and steals Peter’s lips in a kiss.

Peter grips him tighter and tangles their limbs together. He opens his mouth against Claude’s, tongues and breath twining around each other.

He pulls away with a gasp, starts to protest. “The other passengers—“

“It’s subjective midnight. Everyone’s asleep.”

“We’re not.”

Claude rolls his eyes, loosens his grip.

Peter smiles and grabs at Claude’s hands. “I didn’t say stop.” He pulls Claude into a fierce kiss, all heat and tongue and teeth.

Claude pulls deftly at the zipper of Peter’s jumpsuit, baring him to the empty room. Peter shivers; Claude’s touch is still new enough for a sharp thrill to slide down his spine. Claude pulls at his own jumpsuit now, eyes still not meeting Peter’s.

Peter slides his hands down Claude’s exposed chest, fingertips relearning the tracery of scars that had been Claude’s skinsuit. He knows Claude is ashamed of the scars and lack of functionality they signify; Peter doesn’t mind, he thinks of them as shared history. Claude had been one of the first subjects for the supersoldier program Eclipse, the program that reached its potential in Peter’s skinsuit. If Eclipse hadn’t burnt Claude’s wires, making him an outcast, they would never have met.

Peter bends his head and kisses the seam at the base of Claude’s neck that delineates grafted nuskin and old.

Claude jerks back unconsciously, eyes shuttered.

Claude’s movement sends them spiraling through space, breaking the standstill. Peter ducks his head against Claude’s chest, torn between laughing and feeling sick. Claude reaches out and steadies them with a practiced hand against a wall.

Claude lifts his chin and kisses him gently. Peter pushes against his lover, pinning them both against the wall. Their jumpsuits had come undone in their tumble, and Peter gasps at the slide of naked skin on skin. They’re pressed together, naked from neck to thigh.

Claude’s hands slide over his hips and Peter can’t help but throw his head back. Claude steadies them against a convenient handhold before his movement can unstable them again.

“So, I guess this takes a little practice?”

Claude laughs and kisses him, cradling his head with his free hand. Peter finally gets frustrated and reaches out with Eclipse, using his powers to hold them steady. Claude’s eyes pop open for a second; Peter opens his mouth against his and Claude’s eyes slide closed.

Peter slides his hands up Claude’s back, molding himself to his lover’s body. Their bodies slide together, slick with sweat and lust.

Claude reaches down between them and takes hold of Peter’s erection. Peter gasps loudly at the feel of calloused hands on oversensitive skin. He kisses Claude, teeth nipping at lips; desire hot and bright burning just under his skin.

They rock against each other, pushing against walls and powers, skin and hips. Peter digs his fingers into Claude’s broad back, mouth half open and eyes half closed. Claude groans and tucks his head against Peter’s neck, breath hot and moist against his skin.

It’s been too long and Peter’s missed this so; he bucks against Claude’s hands, too close. Claude groans, fingers tightening on sensitive skin. Peter cries out, starburst of heat and white light.

Suspended in insensate space, Peter feels Claude come against his slack hands. Claude sags against the wall, head falling back. Peter leans against his lover, sated and breathing hard.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “I can see why you like space.”

Claude laughs.

\---

Radus is nothing like Peter’s ever seen. The planet sparkles from space, sharp shine of sun on metal. The whole planet is one huge city. Its two moons are joined by a belt of orbiting satellites, ringing the planet at its equator.

Peter can’t help but be intimidated by it. He’s always lived in green places. Radus almost doesn’t feel alive, like a glittering shell long abandoned.

Claude leans over his shoulder as they float by the porthole. “You should pay more attention to the newswaves.”

Peter glances over his shoulder at the screen. A talking head floats beside a picture of Linderman in his holding cell.

Claude grins, sharp and angry. “They’re going to try him for Medu-ceq.”

Peter does a double take, looks back at the screen. They’re showing the same footage they showed five years ago.

The Helix building in flames, people screaming and crying, Linderman speaking earnestly with a bleeding cut on his forehead. At the time, everyone had been moved by the company’s plight, but it had all been a lie. Linderman had planned the bombing of his own holdings, sacrificing thousands of lives for the powers granted to him by the company’s council.

Peter turns away. He doesn’t need to be reminded of the reason for this trip. He’s testifying against his own mother; he doesn’t need to be reminded of the kind of company she kept.

Claude reaches out and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. Peter can’t bring himself to look and see the pity on his lover’s face.

Rhel, the ship’s second, pops out of the hatch to the bridge, breaking the awkward moment. “Hey, we’re in atmo in five minutes. Gravity’s gonna be comin’ back on soon. Might wanna make yourselves comfortable-like.” The dark-skinned man disappears back into the bridge, preparing the ship for entry into atmosphere.

Peter straps himself into one of the chairs designed for reentry, fumbling at the harness. He watches enviously as Claude navigates the buckles with ease. Claude grins, noticing his expression. “Don’t look like that, kid. Not my fault you were born grounded.”

Peter starts to respond when they enter atmosphere. The ship shakes and g-forces slam Peter into the seat, grinding at his bones despite gel cushions. He grimaces in pain, hands clenched on the chair’s arms, knuckles white.

He spares a glance at Claude; his lover is smiling, face turned into gravity with fierce joy.

The screen on the lounge’s front wall fizzes to life, the ship’s nose as seen from the cockpit. Flames roll over the prow, metal glowing cherry-red in friction. They are diving down at a blue-green sky, pinpoints of steel spires beneath them. They burst out into green-tinged clouds, the city’s tall towers scraping at their underbelly. Peter chokes back a gasp of wonder.

“Hang on, folks,” Rhel’s voice crackles from the speakers. “We’re gonna have some fun.”

The ship banks sharply, rolling curlicues between buildings. Alarms blare as the little ship dances through the vast city. Claude laughs, and Peter can hear his joy echoed in the voice of the spacers. Peter just feels sick, clutching at his harness straps for dear life.

“Are you done yet?” A harassed voice hails the ship.

Peter looks out the porthole; a tug is floating alongside them, managing to radiate an air of righteous anger.

Rhel laughs and hails the tug’s captain by name, consenting to be taken to their berth. Peter’s stomach jolts again the tiny tug clamps on to the _Sala Maria_ , pulling her into port.

Peter closes his eyes during the docking procedures, trying to calm his nerves. It’s not an easy task, and he just knows Claude is grinning at him.

Sure enough, Claude is still grinning at him when Peter opens his eyes and tries to disentangle himself from his chair. Claude stands and moves to help him, but Peter bats his hands away. He can at least manage a few buckles on his own.

Peter stomps to their small room, slinging his carryall over his shoulder. He ignores Claude following him as he exits the ship. He’s dealing with enough right now; he doesn’t need Claude’s smug attitude on top of it all.

Standing at the bottom of the ramp, the city stops his breath and the train of thoughts in his head. The shine of metal blinds him, sunset gleaming off glass miles-wide.

The whole of Radus stretches away to the horizon, coruscating in the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

The Council Hall is everything that the city of Radus isn’t. It’s peaceful and tranquil, cultured gardens and stone architecture. Peter is forcibly reminded of his old home inside Manha’s Dome.

He spares a moment’s quick pleasure on the thought of the dome being torn down. It had been Nathan’s idea, to end the stratification of On High and Below. Peter doubts that it will be that easy, but it’s a start. And that’s what Helix’s downfall had given his planet: a new start.

A beautiful woman approaches them from across the manicured gardens. Dark-skinned with wide striking green eyes, tall and elegant in beige robes emblazoned with a green crescent moon. She’s easily one of the most beautiful women Peter’s ever seen. She curtseys to them, an oddly archaic gesture. Claude bites back a laugh, but Peter’s charmed by her old-fashioned courtesy.

The woman smiles and takes Peter’s hands in both of hers. “I’m Simone Deveaux, of Green Moon Medicals. You must be Peter Petrelli of Helix Company. We’ve been waiting for you.” Simone smiles dazzlingly, and then turns to Claude almost as an afterthought. “And you’re Peter’s protector, Claude Rains.” She hesitates, “I don’t believe I know your company affiliation.”

Claude crosses his arms and stares at her. “That’s because I don’t have one.”

Simone tries to hide her surprise. Not being attached to a company is nearly unheard of, especially on the Central planets. And for such an important person to be a freelancer, rocks the foundations of her society. Only important people are company, and only company people are important.

Simone recovers her composure well. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you to my father.”

Her father turns out to be Charles Deveaux, the corporate head of Green Moon Medicals. He’s darker than Simone, more charismatic. He’s confined to a grav-chair, sleek machines keeping him alive. But when he speaks, his voice is deep and full.

Peter is more than a little awed. “I was enrolled in your medical program,” he says. “Before all this started.”

Charles laughs. “I know. And when ‘all this’ is over, your spot’s still open, if you want it.”

Peter offers his profuse thanks, but Charles just smiles. “You have a lot of heart, kid,” he says. “I like that. It takes a lot of courage to do what you’re doing.”

Peter’s face falls. Claude places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Charles watches him with an evaluating eye. “I know it’d hard to go against family, but it has to be done. Justice must be served. Even for company leaders. _Especially_ for company leaders.” Peter starts to answer, but Charles waves a hand, cutting him off. “No doubt you’ve come to terms with bringing down Linderman, and why not? The man’s a monster. Especially after what we’ve learned about Medu-ceq. But your mother is equally as deserving of punishment for her plans, for what she did to you. I think you’ll understand that, before the end.”

Peter looks away from the man’s penetrating eyes. “I know,” he says softly, feeling the weight of Claude’s hand on his shoulder.

Charles smiles knowingly. “I’ll let my daughter show you to your quarters before we let the rest of the Council have at you.”

Peter nods and clasps Charles’ hand. “Thank you, sir.”

Simone takes Peter’s arm and guides him across the manicured gardens. Claude and Charles remain, watching each other silently. Charles smiles and speaks first.

“You take care of that boy.”

Claude nods. “I intend to.” He followed after Peter, without looking back.

\---

Claude surfs the net like a shadow, silent and invisible.

He sits on the soft carpeted floor of the luxurious suite the Council has given him and Peter. Claude thinks of it more as a gilded cage. He can’t leave here, not without Peter, and Peter won’t leave until the Council is done with him. Claude hates this suite especially, hates everything it stands for. The luxury is opulent, wasteful; money that could be better spent on helping other people. But these corporate types have always been like that, thinking first of themselves and their comfort long before thinking of their people.

Claude hates everything about this planet. He’s felt subhuman ever since he stepped foot on Radus. And they treat him like he is. They defer to Peter, poor little rich boy, empathizing with the ‘horrors’ he experienced among the common people. They look at Claude like an interesting specimen, horrified fascination. They treat him like a cripple. Technically he is; but he’s never thought of himself as one. And he hates the pity in their eyes.

Claude fingers the cord leading to the jack at the base of his skull, the net a half-felt awarenss at the back of his mind. He angrily pushes aside his self-pitying thoughts and plunges into the net.

For him, the riot of colors and sensations is dimmed, black and white. He’s at a remove from the world everyone else lives in. He can’t truly experience it, but he can observe it. And that’s what he really needs to do right now.

He rides the tides of the net, drifting to the central sites. The lines around him hum with activity, millions of others unseen but felt. He floats in the main BBS, filled with hundreds of thousands of conversations and interactions. He reaches out digital fingers and trawls for activity referring to the upcoming trial. The results are enormous.

He glances through them, skimming through snips of video and text and calls. Most are condemning Linderman, baying for his blood; a few staunch supporters defend him, calling the trial a kangaroo court. Claude smiles grimly; Linderman has already been tried in the court of public opinion, and found guilty. It’s only a matter of time before a real court condemns him.

Peter’s voice pulls Claude’s consciousness back from the BBS, flying backwards across the strands of light. He looks up and disconnects the cord from his jack.

Peter looks at him seriously. “It’s time.”

“Good,” Claude says, and stands.

\---

The Council Hall soars high above the city, a floating monument to justice in the sky. The building is sleek and built of practically indestructible plasteel; the Ruling Council takes no chances with their lives. The hall itself is a giant cylinder, smooth white walls towering to an open ceiling, made of specially reinforced glass. Looking up, Peter can faintly see the path of spaceships zipping through the green-tinged clouds.

The eleven members of the Ruling Council sit at a long table at the far end of the room, facing them. A smaller table faces the Council, where the defendants, prosecutors and assembled lawyers are seated. The audiences and assembled witnesses sit in ascending amphitheater seats around the room’s curved walls. The audience is small and high-powered; the Council prefers to keep this trial quiet, lest it reflect badly on them.

Peter and Claude are seated in one of the front rows, with a clear view of the Council. The Ruling Council is a rough mix of men and women of various backgrounds, all older. Peter has no doubt that they were all even older than they appeared to be, having taken advantage of the controversial rejuvenation techniques available to the rich and unscrupulous. Peter smiles slightly at the thought; Claude’s cynicism is obviously rubbing off on him. The only physical similarities between the councilors was the air of unthinking authority they project and the richness of their clothes.

Charles nods to them, his grav-chair a stark contrast to the healthy vitality of the other councilors. Simone, standing at her father’s shoulder, looks over at them and a tiny smile curls the corners of her full lips.

Peter is smiling back when one of the other councilors catches his eye. The man is young, easily the youngest at the Council table, blond, and beautiful. And he’s staring straight at Peter. When Peter meets his gaze, the man smiles and winks. Peter quickly looks away, trying not to blush and unsure of the reason.

The man in the middle of the table stands and calls the room to order. The man is haughty and imposing and military-styled clothing, his pock-marked face speaking of a difficult life. “We are here to hear the case against Daniel Linderman, head of Helix Company,” he says in an oddly-accented voice. “He is accused of high treason, conspiring against this Council, and attempted murder. This court will commence; Kaito Nakamura of Rising Sun Industries presiding.”

The Council introduces itself into record, going down the line of the table. Peter knows most of them, by name if not by face; everyone in the galaxy knows the Ruling Council.

Claude leans over and nudges him with his elbow. “That’s Hiro’s dad,” he whispers.

Peter stares at Claude for a shocked second, and then turns his eyes on Kaito. Now that he’s looking for it, Peter can definitely see the resemblance to the man who had been arrested to help him. Hiro had been sent to a reform colony on the Rim for his efforts to help Peter and Claude. “Hiro’s a corporate son?” he gasps. “He hates the company so much…”

Claude smiles grimly. “He does. He’s not a terrorist for nothing.” He sighs, eyes distant. “Hiro’s best friend died on Medu-ceq. And in all the trials afterward, they implicated some people at Rising Sun. The company lost a lot.” Peter nods; in the scrambling that had taken place after the bombings, many companies had been destroyed or bankrupted. “They would have lost everything if Kaito hadn’t done some shady dealings. Hiro was not well pleased with Helix. He blames them for—well, just about everything.” Claude leans back in his seat. “I imagine we’ll be seeing Hiro at this trial before long.”

Peter smiles; he admires his lover’s confidence in the other man, but he doesn’t share it.

Silence falls on the hall as a platform rises from the floor, bearing two female witnesses. Peter stares in shock as he recognizes the identical blonde women. The Sanders sisters were enforcers for Helix Company and had attacked Hiro’s hideout, forcing Peter and Claude to go on the run through the city of Manha. The stories he’d since heard of them painted the beautiful women as ruthless and efficient killers, loyal only to each other.

“Niki and Jessica Sanders, Helix Company,” the automated system announces.

The prosecutor, a cinnamon-skinned woman with wires plaited into her dark hair, approaches the two witnesses. The woman nods to the Council as the automated system announces her as Jan Parvaneh.] “Misses Sanders, you have been sworn into the Council court. You will now tell the council the story you told me.”

One of the blondes glances at her sister, who is staring at the prosecutor with a mulish expression, and begins to speak.

The story she tells is horrifying. The entire hall listens in shocked silence to the unfolding of the tragic and staged bombings. Helix Company’s status within the Conglomerate had begun to slip, fast losing money and prestige. It had been an untenable situation for Linderman. So he hatched a scheme that would restore Helix to the Ruling council. He’d purposely targeted the Company headquarters on Medu-ceq, a popular Central planet. An attack on a central planet would draw the most news coverage and the most sympathy. The day of the attacks, the Sanders girls and other soldiers of fortune had infiltrated the facility and planted strategic explosives.

Linderman had been holding a press conference outside the building when the rigged bombs exploded. He’d “fearlessly” joined the rescue forces trying to find any survivors in the smoking wreckage. There hadn’t been any. The fires raged for hours, filling the sky with ash and soot. Rescue forces had finally extinguished the fires and began searching for bodies. Linderman emerged in front of the news cams, having endured hours of toil. Everyone remembered the famous footage of Linderman addressing his company, bleeding from a cut on his forehead and dirtied with soot.

He had pledged to reunite his company, to make it stronger than ever. And the frightened company had been only too happy to reward its heroic leader. They bestowed unheard of powers on Linderman, giving him unchecked control of the company and its holdings. Helix Company has skyrocketed in public opinion; people were inspired by how it had been united by such strong leadership. Within a month, the company’s rivals were in shambles and Linderman had been made a member of the Ruling Council.

Peter curls in on himself with shame and disgust. He supported Linderman after Medu-ceq, thought he was a great man. He’d been taken in just like everyone else. He was ashamed of his association with the Helix Company.

Niki finally stops speaking and bows her head. “I’ve done a lot,” she says. “Mostly bad things, mostly illegal. But that was the only thing I’ve ever regretted.” Jessica sniffs, staring into the distance.

The prosecutor nods. “Thank you,” she says to Niki. She turns and addresses the Council. “I have no further questions for these witnesses.” The platform sinks back into the floor, taking the Sanders girls with it. Parvaneh clasps her hands in front of her and addresses the Council again. “You have all read the testimony forcibly extracted from Mister Linderman’s lieutenant, Eric Thompson. Thompson helped planned the bombing and provided the manpower to plant the explosives. This testimony corroborates that of Niki Sanders. This is more than enough evidence to convict this man.” She looks at Linderman venomously; Peter would swear she was going to spit on Linderman. He understands the sentiment.

Kaito nods and turns to his fellow councilors. “You know the procedure. We will vote now.” With a skinsuit gesture, a light on the table in front of him glows red. Red for guilty.

With his skinsuit activated, Peter reaches out into the planetwide net. The news footage is prominent, taking most of the planet’s attention. Public opinion sways back and forth, leaning towards guilty. Then more and more corporate leaders turn on Linderman, adding their opinion to the public debate. And Peter knows that Linderman’s lost.

The councilors know it too. Peter wonders how many accessed the net before casting their votes. One by one, lights turn red. The fat, rodent-like man at the end of the table sends a pleading look towards Linderman and then casts a guilty vote.

The table glows red.

Kaito nods, grimly satisfied. “Guilty. Take this monster away. We will decide his sentencing.”

Conglomerate guards grab Linderman from his seat and pull him up. Peter can see the hard, angry set of his face as the guards lead him to another platform in the floor, Parvaneh following with grim success. As the platform begins to sink, Linderman catches sight of Peter and Claude; he snarls. Claude waves merrily, Peter just looks away, his stomach lurching.

Kaito speaks again, dragging Peter out of his funk. “We move now to the matter of Linderman’s plot against this council. Specifically, the program called Eclipse.” He looks directly at Peter. Peter tries not to shrink away from the intimidating gaze. “We now know this program was designed to genetically enhance Helix employees, to create supersoldiers. We do not know the full extent of this plot, but we know that these enhanced subjects were to be used in some capacity against rival companies, and this council. In the course of bringing this to light, the program was added to the automatic update. We disabled the update as soon as we knew, but it was too late to stop thousands of downloads. By now, it has spread across the Conglomerate. This council will now take suggestions as to how to remedy this situation.”

A moment of silence, and then the blond man who had winked at Peter sits forward. “Adam Monroe, Paragon Enterprises,” the automated system intones.

Adam spares a flash of annoyance for the system, and then turns his attention on the council. “It’s a good idea. Monster though Linderman may be, it is a beautiful project. The benefits of genetically enhanced employees speak for themselves. I think we should embrace this new idea. However it works, this program helps people reach their fullest potential. I don’t see how we can argue with that.” Peter finds himself nodding in response to Adam’s argument.

“Victoria Pratt, Babylon Corporation,” the system announces as an older redheaded woman sits forward. Her clothes, while rich, are worn and mended. Her face is lined and sunworn. She is the practical and sensible leader of the major agriculture farming corporation, which provides a good half of the food products of the Conglomerate.

“Don’t be stupid,” she snaps. “Once we open the door to engineering our people, it’ll turn into an arms race. We’ll keep turning genetically enhanced soldiers and traders on each other until there’s nothing human left. Mutually assured destruction. We will tear ourselves to pieces and bring our people down with us.” She sighs, closes here eyes for a moment. “Genetic engineering is a slippery slope. We must preserve the original stock.”

“Bob Bishop, the Midas Institute” the system announces for a large, sad-faced man wearing data-specs.

“This may seem a little extreme,” he says, adjusting his data-specs. “But what about reversing the effects of the Eclipse program?”

“Susan Amman, Ammonite Corporation,” the system intones.

A dark-skinned woman rolls her eyes, half-speaking over the announcer’s words. “And how do you suggest we do that? Thousands have already downloaded the thing, most of them by choice. I doubt they’ll agree to remove it.”

“Maury Parkman, Haney Company,” the announcer says as the fat man Peter had noticed earlier adds his opinion.

“Why should we give them a choice? The program is illegal, they have no right to it,” he says. “We just round up all the uncooperative recipients and hold them until they agree to have the program removed.” Peter is shocked to see more than a few thoughtful nods from the councilors.

Adam starts to speak, and the announcer starts to cut in again. “Can’t we turn that blasted thing off,” Adam snarls.

Kaito half-smiles at Adam’s annoyance; he gestures and his skinsuit disables the announcer system.

“You’re mad,” Adam exclaims. “These are people, not cattle! You can’t arrest them and force them to reset their genetic code. It’s barbaric! Once you download this program, it becomes a part of you. It becomes your very nature, your identity. We have no right to ask them to change that. This isn’t something that needs to be fixed. And this program is too important an advancement to just give up on it so easily. Think of all the good we could do with it, all the people we could help.” Adam looks around at the blank or hostile faces of his fellows. He sighs wearily. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” He pulls a small knife out of his pocket, immediately sparking panic among his neighbors as they scramble away from his. Adam looks up at where Peter is sitting and smiles.

Then he stabs the knife into his outstretched forearm.

The council hall breaks into wild noise, shouts and hurried conversations punctuated by the zip and whine of fluttering news cams. The council stares at Adam in shock.

Adam jerks the knife out of his flesh, proffering his bloodied arm to the audience. “I, myself, have already downloaded Eclipse.” The hall falls into hushed silence. He smiles beatifically as the flesh of his arm knits back together, leaving unmarred skin. “If you want to downgrade everyone, you must force me to downgrade as well.”

Peter can’t help the smile of triumph that spreads across his face at Adam’s pronouncement. He turns to Claude and takes his hand. Claude half-smiles at him, the closest thing to approval his lover will show for this new development. Peter nearly sighs; he wishes his lover could share in the joy of the battle they’ve just won.

 

Kaito Nakamura slams his hand down on the table. “This is unacceptable. You have directly contravened this council! You will not be allowed to continue on this path.” He glares at Adam, his calm mask slipping. “You can not be trusted with this gift, this responsibility.”

Victoria shakes her head, staring at the bloodied knife in Adam’s hand. “You don’t understand this program. None of us really do. It’s not a toy to play with.”

“You’re right,” Adam agrees sincerely. “Eclipse is part of who I am now.”

The rest of the council is silent, simply watching.

The silence is shattered by Simone’s tablet dropping to the floor. “Linderman’s been killed,” she exclaims.

Kaito nods. “We expected something like this might happened. We offered him increased security, but he refused. We could do nothing more. There are many people who wanted him dead.”

Simone’s eyes go distant as she uses her skinsuit to consult the net. “I don’t think this was about Medu-ceq,” she says slowly. “The guards with him are also dead. It’s too neat.” She tilts her head, gestures. “The officers on the scene believe that this was professional.” She pauses, considers the seriousness of her words. “A planned assassination.”

Maury Parkman scoffs, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense. There hasn’t been assassination in more than two hundred—“

The air of the hall is torn asunder with the sound of gunfire. Peter ducks, instantly recognizing the sound of a projectile weapon. Claude throws himself over him, protective instincts left over from their time as fugitives.

He looks up in time to see Kaito Nakamura’s chest explode in a hail of blood and bullets.


	3. Chapter 3

The Council Hall is back on the ground, shrouded in an armored dome like a tortoise pulled into its shell. No more chances; the Council is going to protect itself.

Everyone still in the Hall has been quarantined, searched, and interrogated. Peter sits alone in a cold steel room, on a cold steel chair. He’s forcibly reminded of the last time he was incarcerated, by Helix Company. At least this time no one is trying to kill him, or make him into some sort of general. And no one has tried to suppress his powers.

Peter reaches out with Eclipse, feeling for the familiar sensation of Claude’s mind. He finds him, several rooms down, arguing with an investigator. Claude is angry— _of course ya blame me, not your of corporate stooges_ —and Peter finds a simmering pool of deep resentment years in the making. Of Peter, of the way people turn to a boy long before they think of turning to Claude, of how he’s been low-level all his life, of what Helix did to him and made him into, of everything corporate. Peter pulls back, troubled by the depths of rage in his lover’s heart, and reaches out to the other minds in the Council Hall.

He finds the other members of the audience, scared and bewildered. He touches on the minds of the councilors, finds only fear and anger. From some, a touch of satisfaction at losing a rival, but it is so tempered by fear for their own lives that Peter automatically dismisses them.

Peter spreads out, diffusing his mind across the service staff and guards, searching for shreds of guilt. He finds randomized guilt, over minor sins and infractions, but no killers. Not even the guards; Radus has been so peaceful, or perhaps so rigidly enforced, that killing force has been unnecessary. That means that the killer has left, or been killed himself.

Peter pulls his mind back to his body, fingers of thought pulling back to himself. He sighs; not even Eclipse seems to be able to figure this out.

The door of his cell chimes and slides open. Peter looks up, hoping someone has come to let him out finally.

Adam Monroe, the attractive blond councilor, stands confidently the doorway. He strides into the cell like he owns it; slouches in the interrogator’s chair across the table from Peter. “Hello,” he says. “I’m Adam.” He smiles, bright and beautiful. “And everyone knows who you are, Peter. You’re the hero.”

Peter flushes. “Not really.”

Adam grins. “Close enough.” He looks around the small cell. “They’ve finally decided we can let everyone go. Looks like the shooter fled before we could lock down.” He rolls his eyes. “Although how someone can escape a floating building I’ll never know.” He shrugs. “Let’s get you out of here and somewhere more appropriate to your status.”

“Claude—“

Adam smiles, tilts his head. “Your lover; of course. We’ll find him too.”

\---

“Nice new buddy you’ve got,” Claude remarks, leaning against the seat of their cab. “You make friends awful easy.”

Peter frowns, confused. “You mean Adam?”

Claude snorts. “Of course I mean Adam. Are there any other corporate heads hanging all over you?”

Peter turns to his lover. “Adam sought me out, Claude, not the other way around. And he’s not hanging all over me.”

“Really?” Claude laughs. “What would you call a member of a Ruling Council falling all over himself to be your bestest friend? If that boy doesn’t have ulterior motives, I don’t know who does.”

Peter glares at him. “This isn’t even about Adam! Why can’t you trust anyone? Why can’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” Claude snarls. “I don’t have reason to trust anyone else.”

He turns away. Peter watches him, remembering the anger he had felt in his lover’s mind. He decides not to press the issue. The rest of ride is spent in strained silence.

Neither speaks until the door of their suite closes behind them. Claude wipes his hand over his face, sighs heavily.

“Are you all right?” Peter asks.

Claude lets out a short sharp bark of laughter. “I should be asking you that. I’m your protector,” he says sarcastically. He looks away. “I’ve seen plenty of death in my time, kid.”

Peter wraps his arms around himself. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen death either.”

That makes Claude looks up. He sighs and reaches out for Peter; he wraps his arms around him. “I’m sorry. I don’t fit here; I hate it. But I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.” Peter sighs and burrows into the warmth of his lover’s arms, tries to let the fear and the worry drain out of him. “Are you gonna be okay with this?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

Claude nods and steps away, obviously uncomfortable with the outpouring of emotion. He turns on the suite’s screen, flipping through the newswaves in search of coverage of Kaito Nakamura’s murder.

The screen suddenly flares red, the insignia of the Ruling Council lashing angry and bright. A talking head appears against the insignia, a generically beautiful blonde woman with an expression of suppressed panic. “This Deirdre Ash’in, reporter to the Ruling Council. At oh-two-hundred hours today, Kaito Nakamura was brutally murdered in a sealed session of the Ruling Council. The session was held to try Daniel Linderman, the former head of Helix Company. Linderman was found guilty of high treason and was being transported to a holding facility when he was assassinated by parties unknown.” The woman swallows and looks briefly off-camera. “Just moments ago, Victoria Pratt, the leader of Babylon Corporation, was found dead in her home. Authorities suspect poisoning but have yet to release an official comment.” The insignia vanished, revealing newscam footage of a grav-stretcher being taken out of an opulent floating home, a white-shrouded shape on it.

Peter watches in shock. Claude just shakes his head.

The footage switches to the other members of the Council, looking shocked and saddened.

Claude grins angrily. “Your friend Adam doesn’t look too shook up about this. Almost looks a little smug.”

Peter glares up at him. “Can we not do this now? Someone just died.”

Claude shakes his head. “Of course,” he says.

“Babylon Corporation is already shaken by this news. Victoria Pratt ruled her company with an iron fist, taking an interest in all aspects of its workings. Without her leadership, many fear the company will crumble and fall. Investors have begun to bail out, many transferring their holdings to that of Paragon Industries.” Peter pointedly doesn’t look at Claude at that, knowing the man will be smirking.

“Officials have yet to comment on whether these killings of prominent Councilors are connected. Stay with us for the latest news on this story. I’m Deirdre Ash’in, keep watching.”

\---

Peter is surprised when Simone shows up at their suite.

“I’m sorry to intrude on you,” she says. “But my father requests your presence at a Council meeting.” She smiles slightly. “He seems to have taken a shine to your advice.”

The Council members are already in a full heated debate by the time Peter, Claude and Simone rejoin them. They take seats at the round table in a smaller meeting room. Charles makes eye contact but otherwise offers no greeting.

Maury Parkman leads forward in his seat. “We shouldn’t stay here. Our lives are in danger.” He looks around the table. “I don’t know what the rest of you are planning, but I’m going to SouHem.”

Susan Amman laughs harshly. “You really think that running away to your vacation home in the south is going to save you skin? SouHem may have a dome, but a dome’s not impenetrable. They found us in our homes, even in the Council Hall. You really think they can’t find you there?”

“Don’t be a coward, Maury,” Adam groans.

One of the other councilors, a swarthy man with sharp eyes. “Maury has a point. Most of my resources are in my home in SouHem. I can mount a better defense from there than I can from here. And I think many of us are in the same situation.” There are many nods around the table, though there is a studied lack of eye contact.

“You’re lying.” Charles Deveaux’s voice is deep and sonorous. “You all want to go to SouHem because you’re scared and you think you would feel safer there. And I know you’re afraid; I am too. But you are company _leaders_. We have a responsibility to our people. If we all leave now, we abandon those who make our companies strong and our companies will fail. I guarantee you that.” He looks around the table, meets Peter’s eyes, nods to Claude. “When we joined this council, we all accepted a great responsibility. We serve our companies, our people first. We serve ourselves second. We have a duty.”

“We—“ Charles’ voice suddenly chokes off and his hands rise to his throat, his eyes rolling back in his head. His machines emit a frantic beeping and ten a horrible long flat tone. More horrible is when the noise suddenly stops. The grav-chair crashes to the ground, Charles tumbling from its lifeless embrace. Simone screams and rushes to her father’s side. She frantically gestures with her skinsuit, trying to get the machines working again.

“Help me,” she cries, sobbing.

Peter rushes to Charles’ side, frantically feeling at his neck for a pulse. Finding none, he activates his skinsuit and reaches out to connect with Charles. Charles’s skinsuit is only partially responsive, so Peter tries to shock into activity, knowing that if he can get it working he may yet save Charles’ life. But every medical protocol he knows fails, and Charles’ skinsuit rapidly shuts down.

“No!” Peter cries. “You can’t die!” He gives up on technology and switches to the old-fashioned way. He tilts Charles’ head back, opening his airway. He breathes into the man’s mouth, and then begins chest compressions. He tries again and again, but gets no response from his patient.

Adam suddenly appears next to Peter, pushing him aside. Adam reaches into the grav-chair, searching for a storage compartment. Blue sparks of electricity dance on his hands, jumping from the metal, but Adam ignores it. He yanks open a compartment and fumbles out a hypodermic needle.

Adam rolls up his sleeve and jams the needle into his exposed forearm. He pulls the plunger and Peter watches in shock as blood fills the needle. Adam clambers over to Charles and slams the needle into the side of his neck, pushing his blood into the other man’s body.

Peter tries to pull Adam away from the body. “What are you doing?” he cries.

Adam just smiles at him.

Charles suddenly gasps and sits up.

Peter rushes forward, checking Charles’ pulse and vitals. He stares up at Adam.

Charles flexes his hand, staring down at his body in wonder.

The Council watches, stunned into silence.

Adam stands, and plants his fists solidly on the table. His mouth twitches up in the beginning of a smile; he knows the council’s eyes are on him.

“I will not run,” he announces calmly. The council erupts in shouting.

Claude keeps his eyes on Adam’s face.

  
  
[]()   



	4. Chapter 4

Claude doesn’t tell Peter where he’s going. Peter himself is gone, at Charles Deveaux’s side. Claude has more important things to do.

The building they’re staying in has its own contingent of guards. Peter is high profile enough that a fairly high-ranking detective is stationed with them, especially after the Council murders. She’s his first contact.

The officer is a tomboyish woman with short blond hair and a dusting of freckles across her pert nose. She’s sitting with her feet propped on her desk, clad in a tight durable jumpsuit. She looks and gives Claude a lopsided smile. “I was wondering when you’d be coming to see me.” She sits up. “I’m Audrey Hanson. And you’re Claude.”

Claude huffs out a laugh. “We haven’t even met and you already knew I was coming to see you.”

Audrey tilts her head. “I know a suspicious bastard when I see one. Plus, I know your history.” Her smile fades. “You were watching Mr. Monroe. You argued about him with your lover. You think he might have something to do with the murders of the other Council members.” She stands and slips her laser pistol out of a desk drawer and into a thigh holster. She looks him in the eye, deadly serious. “You’re not the only one who does.”

Claude meets her gaze. “And what are you planning to do about it?”

Audrey glances around her office. “I’m going to take you to some people who might know more.”

\---

Audrey takes Claude deep into the world-city of Radus, beyond the shining towers and floating buildings of the rich. They end up in the run-down sections, where people scrape by just to make a living. Claude feels more at home than he has in months. He spent the last five years of his life in the poor sections of Manha; he feels more comfortable among the huddled masses than in the shining towers of their masters.

Audrey leads him to the building where she lives when she’s off shift. The front is a smoky restaurant filled with maintenance workers. Claude immediately recognizes their jumpsuits as ventilation workers. He feels a pang of nostalgia; his mother worked as a space station ventilation worker.

He shoves those thoughts aside as Audrey leads him into a back room that reminds him forcibly of Hiro’s apartment. Claude spares a moment for a smile before regarding the room’s occupants.

A tiny woman with an unruly crop of white-blond hair. A dark man with angry black eyes. A large bald man with black tattoos spidering over his exposed skin. Claude nods: criminals, or close enough. He likes them already.

The dark man instantly takes control. “This the one you were talking about, Audrey?” Audrey nods and the man eyes him critically. “I’m Knox, this is my boy Jesse—“

The little blond interrupts him, quick as a flash. “I’m Daphne. Good to meet you.”

The door back into the bar opens and a gorgeous blonde enters the room. She swings her long curly hair over her shoulder and advances on Claude. She grabs his hand and shakes it firmly. Claude knows her type intimately; strong, manipulative, using her body to get ahead. “Hi,” she purrs. “I’m Meredith. And I’ve heard all about you.”

Audrey snorts. “Meredith, leave the man alone. He’s got a boy back home.”

Meredith pouts, and she’s oddly alluring. “Nothing wrong with having a little bit on the side.”

Claude just barely keeps from laughing. “No thanks, love. I’ve had your type before.”

An insulted look crosses Meredith’s face, before she laughs. “I like a man who knows what he wants.”

Knox scowls at her. “Shut up, Mere.” He looks at Claude. “Audrey said you were looking for dirt on Adam Monroe.”

“Anything and everything,” Claude agrees.

Daphne grins. “Good. Because he’s a bit of a monster.” She meets his eyes. “If he finds out you’re looking at him, he’ll come after you. And you’ll disappear; they won’t find you again.”

“I know,” Claude says levelly. “I’ve disappeared before.”

Meredith laughs nervously. “C’mon now, Daphne. Stop trying to scare the man.”

Audrey glares at Meredith. “He needs to know the risks. No one goes into this blind.”

“I know that,” Meredith snaps. She seems ready to add more, but shuts her mouth in the face of Audrey’s disapproval. “Fine,” she huffs and strides to the door. “I’ll see what I can find out.” She doesn’t look back as she leaves, slams the door behind her.

Claude watches her go, head cocked.

“Don’t worry,” Audrey says. “She’ll do what she says.”

Claude nods and sits down at their table, getting to business. “Who’re your contacts?”

Knox snorts. “Like we’re going to just give out their names. You’re a stranger; we’re not gonna put them in danger.”

Claude just grins at him. “I wasn’t expecting you to. Are you going to take me to them or what?”

Knox scowls. “Of course not. Haven’t you even done this before? Exposing a source is as good as throwing it away.”

“You expect me to just sit on my ass and wait for you to feed me lies? This isn’t my first time.” Claude meets Knox’s eyes steadily. No criminal kid is going to tell him how to run an investigation, not after almost five years working as a police officer.

Knox blinks, looking away. “Fine. But most of our people aren’t going to want to talk to you.”

Claude grins, sharp, showing his teeth. “That’s okay. I know how to make people talk.”

Audrey suddenly laughs. “Enough with the pissing contest.” She turns to Claude. “Most of our people will just be able to give us leads, not much definite.”

Daphne looks up, as if an idea had suddenly popped into her head. “You know why he picked these targets?”

“Linderman was an easy target,” Audrey says. “He refused extra security after the trial, the arrogant bastard. It was only a matter of time before someone gunned him down. As for Kaito, he once tried to have Adam tried and arrested for patent poaching. And rumor has it that Kaito dealt with some bad people to keep Rising Sun afloat after Medu-ceq. No doubt he made some shady deals with Adam. His people were saying that he owed a lot of money. I guess it was just as easy to kill Kaito and take his money out of the profits.”

Knox shrugs. “Makes sense. But what about the woman?”

Audrey gives him a thin smile. “Adam hated Victoria. She always knew he was a bastard. And she’s one of the most powerful on the Council. When he got rid of her he killed two birds with one stone.”

Jesse finally speaks. It seems to be a rare enough occasion that everyone stops and pays attention. “I know who killed them.” The others fall silent. “At least I think I do. He’s the go-to guy for this sort of thing. And he’s a friend of Adam.” He looks seriously at Claude. “You give me a couple of days, I’ll get you proof.”

“Good.” Claude stands. “I have to get back now. Get in touch with Audrey when you have anything. And then we’ll bring the bastard down.”

\---

Peter is waiting for Claude when he gets back. “Where were you?” he asks, and Claude can hear the accusation he’s trying to keep out of his voice.

“I went looking for some information.”

Peter sighs, and Claude can hear the impatience mounting. “And did you find the information you were looking for?”

Claude looks at Peter for a long moment, then drops on to the sofa. “Yes,” he says sharply. Lately, it feels like everything with Peter is a fight, even the sex. And he can’t help but feel like Adam Monroe is at the root of it.

Peter sits down next to him. “What were you looking for?”

Claude meets Peter’s eyes. “You’re not going to want to hear about it.”

Peter sighs. “It’s about Adam, isn’t it? You still think he had something to do with the murders.”

“He ordered them,” Claude snaps, sitting forward. “That’s what I doing today. I was talking to people who deal in this sort of thing. And they know who the killers are. And they know that Adam ordered the killings. He hated Kaito and Victoria and Charles. His company was failing until yesterday. If they hadn’t been killed, he would have lost everything.” He meets Peter’s gaze, knowing that Peter will fight him on this. “He’s got plenty of motive, Peter. He’s a ruthless bastard, and he’s not going to stop.”

Peter stands and turns away from him. “You’re wrong,” he says softly. Peter sucks in a deep breath. “I don’t know how many times we can go over this. Adam is a good man; he’s not a murderer. He saved Charles’ life. You’re being paranoid.” Peter stalks into the bedroom. He stops in the doorway, half turns back to him. “I’m not doing this anymore,” he says. “I can’t.”

The soft resignation is almost worse than anger.

\---

The man who killed Victoria Pratt is nothing like Claude had expected. He’s little, and fat, and rodent-faced. But his smile is vicious. He grins at Audrey as she approaches him, gun drawn, in the hallway of his building.

“Ah-ah,” he smarms, wagging his finger. Audrey suddenly freezes, rictus of pain crossing her face as she tries to move her muscles. Her eyes meet Claude’s, wide and panicked.

Claude smashes the butt of his blaster against the man’s head, knocking him to the ground.

Audrey collapses against the stained wall, breathing heavily but keeping her weapon trained on the unconscious man.

Claude kneels beside the man, and pulls out a small hypo-needle. He injects a chemical cocktail into the man’s neck.

“What the fuck was that?” snaps Audrey.

“Something that knocks out Eclipse abilities. Paralyzes you, too.”

Audrey stares at him as he hooks his hands under the unconscious man’s arms and starts to drag him into his apartment. “Where’d you get something like that?”

“Helix used it on Peter.” Claude looks up and meets Audrey’s eyes. Audrey’s mouth snaps shut in understanding. Claude pushes open the apartment door and heaves the man on to his carpet. He looks around at the apartment, seeing a mishmash of brightly colored silks and paints. Paintings and dolls of circus performers. Audrey visibly shudders.

“And it’ll keep this creep from making us into human puppets?”

“It should.” Claude looks down as the man groans and twitches. “We’ll find out.”

Audrey squats down by the man’s head, and pokes his temple with her gun. “Eric Doyle?”

The man groans affirmation and Claude flips his heavy body over on to his back. The man looks up at them with little mousy eyes and visibly tries to use his abilities. Claude grins as the arrogance on the man’s face quickly turns to fear.

“Hi,” Audrey says brightly. “I’m Audrey and this is my friend Claude.”

Claude smiles and cocks his gun. “And we’re going to talk about Victoria Pratt.”


	5. Chapter 5

Peter hasn’t seen Claude for two days, not since the last time he tried to talk to Peter about Adam. Peter’s not sure if Claude’s disappearance is a good or a bad thing, though the smart money’s on bad. And he can’t help but be worried; without a skinsuit, Claude is only partially functional in society. He knows Claude can take care of himself, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying about his lover.

The Council is called into an emergency session, though no one will tell Peter why. Adam just smiles enigmatically, and the rest of the Council doesn’t much care to have anything to do with him. It’s lonely and frustrating. For a fleeting moment, Peter wonders if Claude feels like this all the time.

The Council is once again seated around its round table, though several of the seats are empty. Some belong to the dead, others to those who fled.

The sun is high above the glass ceiling when two people, a man and a woman, enter the room. The woman is an androgynous blonde wearing the formal uniform of the Council’s security force. It takes Peter a moment to recognize the man as Claude. He stares in shock as his lover approaches the Council. He’d shaved that morning, chin clean of its customary stubble. He’s wearing a modified security uniform, all sharp clean lines, and fresh patches where there had once been corporate ones. Claude looks like a soldier and there’s a cold determination in his eyes that Peter’s never seen before.

Claude steps up to the table with a sharpness that reminds Peter he had once been a police officer. He meets Peter’s eyes and for a moment Peter sees his horrible determination waver. And then Claude’s eyes fall on Adam and harden.

“I know who ordered the murders of Daniel Linderman, Kaito Nakamura, and Victoria Pratt,” he announces. His eyes meet Peter’s again as he says. “And I have proof.”

The Council bursts into instant uproar. Peter glances at Adam for his reaction, but Adam’s face is impassive as his gaze locks with Claude’s.

Claude waits until the council quiets down and then drops his next bombshell. “Adam Monroe ordered and orchestrated these assassinations.” Once again, the council is in an uproar.

The woman steps forward and begins to speak. “My name is Audrey Hanson. I have been a member of the investigative team since the first murders. On Claude’s advice, I sought out less conventional sources. And then the pieces started to fall into place. Daniel Linderman was killed by an attacker none of his guards even saw. Kaito Nakamura was killed by a gunman who could enter and escape from a sealed, floating building. Victoria Pratt was forced to drink a poison that had not previously been in her house. Charles Deveaux’s grav-chair was electrically manipulated into failing.” She takes a deep breath and glances around the table. “We believe that these murders were perpetrated by people augmented by the Eclipse program.”

There is a shocked silence and then the shouting begins.

“Why would Eclipse users turn on Linderman?” Susan Amman demands. “He created the damn thing!”

Claude chuckles. “They weren’t doing this for themselves. They were in someone else’s employ. Adam Monroe’s.”

Peter meets Claude’s eyes across the table. He shakes his head and looks away. If Claude is so determined to go ahead with his stupid crusade, Peter isn’t going to be the one to stop him. Claude needs to learn this lesson on his own. It occurs to Peter that he might need to find another place to sleep tonight.

“That’s preposterous,” Maury Parkman snaps. “Adam would never do such a thing! Where’s the proof you so grandly announced that you had?”

Claude smiles, shark-like and toothy. “We found one of the hired guns. Name of D.L. Hawkins.” Claude’s eyes are on Adam’s face, watching for any change of expression. Peter’s are too; he trusts Adam but Claude seems so convinced. “His son convinced him to download Eclipse a few weeks ago. Since then he’s developed the ability to walk through walls. He ran into a little bit of financial difficulties after a job went south. That’s when Adam found him. Offered him a lot of money, and a scholarship for his son. DL waltzed into the Council Hall and riddled Kaito Nakamura with bullets. His son is now attending a very prestigious boarding school.”

Carlos Mendez leans forward in his seat. “You have the bank records to prove this?”

Claude glances at Audrey, who quickly answers the question. “The money was routed and masked and scrambled. We have our best programmers working on it right now.”

Maury grins triumphantly. “You don’t actually have the records. This is all circumstantial.”

Audrey grins back at him. “We also know who killed Victoria Pratt.” Maury’s grin quickly falls off his face. “A man named Eric Doyle, who has developed the ability to manipulate people like puppets. He’s been an employee of Paragon Industries his whole life. And that is in the records. My people are tracking him down as we speak.”

The council is quiet, but Peter can see the sidelong glances directed at Adam.

Adam, who has been silent and calm-faced the entire time, shoves back his chair and stands. He looks around the table, sees the looks of speculation of his fellows’ faces. “I don’t have to stand for this,” he says quietly. “I have done nothing wrong; I don’t have to put up with you hypocrites staring at me and accusing me. Until you find anything substantial,” he narrows his eyes at Claude. “I will be leaving this planet. I’ll be on Paragon-1 when you decide to behave like rational people.”

With that, Adam turns on his heel and stalks coolly from the council chamber.

\---

Peter doesn’t know why he follows Adam to the docking bay.

But Adam is there, leaning against the wall, almost like he’s been waiting for him.

He intercepts Peter, grasping his arms tightly. Peter swallows; he can feel his stomach flutter.

Adam looks deeply into his eyes. “Come with me,” he says suddenly.

Peter starts to pull back. “What—no—What—“

“I can’t do anymore good here.” Adam grips his arms tighter. “I can help people from my station. And you can help me.”

Peter looks away, voicing his concerns in one word, “Claude—“

Adam’s mouth twitches, his eyes tighten. “Your Claude is doing good work here. He’s going to solve this. Even though he’s on the wrong track now, I have every confidence that he is going to find the people responsible for this and stop them. But you’re not meant for that, working the streets. If anything, you’re slowing him down.” Peter flinches. “You’re meant to help people. I don’t think you can do that here anymore. But with me, you can. You can help people.” Adam sees his resolve flicker and presses his advantage. “It doesn’t have to be forever, Peter,” he smiles.

Peter puts aside his uneasiness. Adam is a good man; he trusts him.

“Yes,” he says.

Adam smiles.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter watches the planet fall away and tries to quiet his doubts.

This might be a bad idea. He definitely should have done more than leave a message for Claude in their shared quarters. But if he’d stayed, Claude would have talked him out of this. And despite his uneasiness, he still believes that Adam is doing good.

And then Adam turns in his seat to smile at him and Peter’s misgivings fall away like the planet beneath their ship.

The trip is spent mostly in silence, the loud roar of the puddle jumper’s engines dominating the cabin. The small ship is luxurious, but scaled back to better serve its purpose. Peter feels more at home in the stripped down elegance than he has since he left Onale.

There’s a young woman waiting for Adam at the docking bay. Petite and blonde, she’s leaning casually against the wall, twirling her hair around her fingers. She stands up with a smile as the airlock opens. She slinks over to Adam and leans into his personal space.

“Hey you,” she grins. “And you brought me someone new!” She leans up on tippy-toes and strokes Adam’s hair, but her eyes are locked on Peter. “He’s lovely,” she sighs happily.

“Stop it,” Adam admonishes gently, a fond note in his voice. “This is Peter Petrelli; he’s here to help me with my work. Peter, this is Elle. She does odd jobs for me. Think of her as my personal assistant.”

Elle smiles, sharp teeth and full lips.

She sidles up to Peter, touches him with fingertips dancing with blue sparks. It’s the first time Peter’s seen someone use Eclipse so openly before. He meets her bright blue eyes. “What can you do?” she asks, voice bright with excitement.

Peter’s gaze flicks to Adam, beaming like a proud parent.

“Everything,” he answers.

\---

This Council is very different than all the others that have gone before. It’s dark and subdued. Somber, all of them aware of the impact of their meeting. The Council already condemned one man for betraying them, and they’re about to condemn another. And Claude and Audrey are in seats of honor, acknowledged by the council, their advice actually sought out. It’s something very new for Claude. He’s never been sought out by the important people, much less anyone like the Ruling Council. It’s not comfortable, like his skin is too small for his body. He itches to get away from all of this, to head back home to Onale VII. He’s never been this important in his life, and he’s discovered that he really hates being important.

Claude’s bored with this already, his hands itch for a gun. He wants to take up a laser pistol and run after Adam himself. He’d gone back to an empty suite, and he’d known immediately that Peter had left with Adam. Claude loves Peter, though he’ll never say it out loud, but Peter is a stupid naïve kid and Adam is just the kind to take advantage of that. And Peter is just the kind to be swayed by Adam’s beauty and rhetoric.

Claude can see that, but it doesn’t stop the anger choking him. He wants to kill them both. First he’ll kill him, then he’ll save him.

And by all the stars in the system, he’s always fucking hated politics.

He prefers action and violence to sitting around talking about it. Which still doesn’t mean that he’s happy when the council decides to blast Adam out of the sky.

Claude’s made a study of the council in the time he’s been included. Susan Amman, who has taken control of the council in the meantime, suggests it. Victoria was her close friend, Claude suggests they might have been more, and she wants revenge. “We have the weapons, all of us do. Let’s just destroy Paragon-1 before the bastard gets a chance to kill any more or us. A pre-emptive strike, you might say.”

Paula Gramble and Harry Fletcher, a more cautious married pair, share a glance. “Susan,” Paula starts in a conciliatory voice, “We know you’re hurting, but we still don’t have the hard proof.” Harry flicks a glance at Claude and Audrey. “Adam is still a member of this council. He’s still one of us.”

“Was he ‘one of us’ when he ordered the murders of Kaito and Victoria and Charles?” Carlos Mendez snaps. Mendez has recently lost his drug-addict son, and is looking to lash out.

“We don’t know that—“ Maury Parkman starts, but the glares of the other councilors shuts him up. Maury is Adam’s crony, and everybody knows it, and nobody is listening to him.

Bob Bishop finally speaks up. “I’m all for getting Adam out of the picture, but let’s slow down before we launch a full-scale nuclear attack. We have reputations to think of.” Bob is a financial man, and all about playing the numbers. Of all the councilors, Claude might hate him the most.

Susan frowns, but nods. “Then I call for a vote.” She looks around the table. “All those for eliminating Adam Monroe, vote green. Opposed; red.” The consoles of the councilors light green on by one, all except Maury’s. Susan smiles triumphantly. “We have a majority. As of this moment, Adam is living on borrowed time.”

Bob nods. “I propose that we launch fighters against Paragon-1. Launching missiles runs the danger of hitting other satellites. But fighters will be able to tackle his own people and land on the station.”

Claude frowns. “Wait just a minute. There are people other than Adam on that station, innocent people. And you’re talking about putting them in the middle of a space battle with no method of escape.”

Paula smiles sadly. “We know that Peter left with Adam, but we can’t allow your personal feelings for one person get in the way of eliminating a danger to the council.”

“I’m not just talking about Peter,” Claude snarls and shakes his head. “I’m talking about all the maintenance workers on that station, everyone who works to keep that thing in orbit. All the little people who keep people like you on your feet. People you never think about. And you’re going to put every single one of them in danger, to further your own ends.”

The Council glances at each other. “We have no choice,” Susan says. “I understand your empathy with these people, but Adam Monroe is more of a threat to them than our attack.”

Claude scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated and angry. “You need to warn them. Issue an ultimatum to Adam. Tell him to stand down and surrender himself to you for trial. He’ll never do it, but it will at least give his employees time to get away, to get out of the line of fire. At least try to minimize the casualties.” He glares at Susan. “Keep the body count down.”

Bob meets Susan’s gaze and nods. “That would be acceptable.”

Claude sighs. He’s given Peter some time. Hopefully, time enough to come for his senses. If not, then maybe time enough to survive.

\---

Elle is deranged in a way Peter’s never seen before, a strange mix of little girl and angry woman, with added sado-masochistic tendencies. He wonders what she might have gone through to make her this way.

He can’t help but be nervous around her, and her habit of ignoring personal space doesn’t help with that.

But Adam has disappeared into his mysterious work, and there don’t seem to be too many people on the station; the few people he’s seen have avoided him completely. Elle’s the only one he has to talk to right now.

Although talking with her is an altogether new experience.

“So…” he starts, over their breakfast. “You do odd jobs for Adam. What exactly does that mean?”

Elle smiles her crazy little smile. “Whatever he wants it to mean.” She leers at him. “Mostly things that are illegal in this part of the Conglomerate.” She shrugs. “I pretty much do whatever he asks me to.”

Peter stares at her, aghast. “What if he asks you to hurt someone? Or kill them?”

“Then that’s what I do.”

Comprehension trickles cold and slow down Peter’s spine. “You’ve killed for him before.” Elle meets his gaze and the answer is in her bright blue eyes. “How many people have you killed?” he asks, distressed and feeling betrayed.

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. “You don’t know anything about me. I haven’t had the luxury of your moral high ground.” She stands, anger twisting her features and making her ugly. “Make sure you eat properly or Adam will be angry with me.” She stomps out of the room, leaving Peter at the table, feeling more alone than he has for a long time.  



	7. Chapter 7

The next day, Elle smiles at him like he’d never insulted her. Peter wonders if that’s part of her insanity, this ability to bounce back as if nothing had happen; her tendency to latch on to people like a limpet is certainly part of it. But she’s a well of information, and Peter’s more than a little interested in learning anything he can about his mysterious host. Adam had disappeared practically as soon as they’d set foot on the station, and Peter hasn’t seen him since.

Peter is in his suite’s lounge, trying ineffectually to connect to the planetside net—hoping to get a message to Claude, though he doesn’t seem to have the right clearance. Elle bounces in, clad in a skintight charcoal jumpsuit, and wraps herself around him. “Whatcha doing?” she laughs, planting a kiss on his cheek.

Peter pushes her off, only slightly denting her good mood. “I’m trying to get on to the net,” he huffs.

“You can’t do that. Adam has to give you special clearance.”

Peter shakes his head, filing that fact away for later evaluation, and snorts quietly; once again, Claude’s influence is rubbing off on him.

“What were you looking for?” Elle asks, all helpful smile. “Maybe I can help you. I’m like a walking database.”

Peter grins at her, charmed by her odd way despite himself. “You’re not quite right, are you?”

“I can tell a hawk from a handsaw, if that’s what you mean,” Elle answers seriously before dissolving into laughter. Peter laughs with her, letting the tension flow out of his body. It feels like it’s been a long time since he really laughed.

“But seriously,” Elle adds. “Tell me what you’re looking for. I might be able to help. Since you’re so pretty and all.”

Peter smiles, knowing it will go further with her than a frown. “I was actually looking for some information on Adam,” he watches her face, carefully gauging her reaction. “I haven’t seen him since he left me in your tender care.”

Elle flops on the couch and sighs. She curls against Peter, tucking herself against his side. “Of course, everyone wants to know about _Adam_. Oh, well, I guess since you’re his new favorite, there’s no harm in telling you anything.” She meets Peter’s gaze levelly. “What did you want to know?”

Peter pauses and sorts through the questions in his head. “First,” he says, “Why does everyone think that Adam has a motive for going after the other Councilors?”

“That’s easy. Adam was Linderman’s mentor—“

“Wait a minute,” Peter interrupts. “Linderman’s very old. How could Adam be his mentor?”

“Adam’s a lot older than he looks, silly. Rejuvenation treatments were practically invented for him,” Elle laughs. “ _Anyway_ , Linderman turned on Adam and decided to form his own company. He stole a lot of Adam formulas when he left. Adam’s never stopped hating him.” She cocks her head to the side. “As for the others, Victoria Pratt was always a bitch to Adam, never thought he should be on the Council. Kaito Nakamura tried to have him locked up once, for patent poaching. And, well, who wouldn’t hate Charles Deveaux? All pompous and high-and-mighty.” Her face contorts in a snarl. “He always thought he was better than everyone else.” Peter is shocked to see little sparks of electricity dancing on her fingertips. “I hate people like that,” she says softly.

Peter reaches out and takes her hand, ignoring the dance of electricity over his. “Elle?”

Elle snaps out of whatever reverie she’s sunken into. “What?”

Peter looks at her with worried eyes. “Are you all right? What’s bothering you?”

Elle smiles grimly and her eyes are distant again. “My father thought that he was better than everyone. Better than me, at least. He thought I’d make a great guinea pig, testing the limits of human endurance. Seeing how much a person could take before they broke. I was nine years old,” she trails off. Shakes herself and keeps talking. “I don’t remember much of what happened for the next two years. Pain. Experiments.” She shrugs. “And then one day they didn’t bother to put me back in my cage. Left me lying on the table like a discarded lab rat. I could just reach a scalpel.”

She falls silent and looks down at her hands. Peter can just see the tracery of paper-thin scars on her hands and wrists from where she had cut herself loose.

“I killed a man that day,” Elle says levelly. Peter’s eyes jerk up from her hands and stare horrified at her face. She was _eleven_ … “A guard,” she continues. “He was guarding the back door. He wasn’t going to left me leave. I _had_ to. I did, you can see that, right?” She begs for justification, her eyes suddenly on Peter’s. Peter nods and Elle sags, relieved.

“I lived on the streets for a few years, picking up ways to stay alive. I was pretty good at it.” She smiles for the first time since she’d started talking. “Then I tried to hustle a pretty young thing that I thought would be an easy mark.” She smiles dreamily. “Adam. He was impressed, decided to take me home with him. He thought I had a lot of potential; he wanted me to be the best I could be. He got me an education, a skinsuit. He had people train me in new ways to stay alive, new ways of being useful.” Elle looks away, suddenly serious. “Adam saved my life and I can never repay him for that.”

“Elle, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—” Peter tries to choke back tears, reaches out to this sweet, savage girl.

Elle cuts him off with a new smile, sharp and insane, and for the first time Peter is really afraid of her.

“Do you know what my last name is, Peter?” Peter shakes his head. Elle nods to herself. “It’s Bishop.”

Peter’s eyes wide and shock jolts through his body. “Bishop? Like—“

“That’s right,” Elle says. “My father’s on the Ruling Council.” Her hands are now ringed in a nimbus of electric blue light. “And one day soon I’m going to kill him myself.”

\---

Elle avoids him after that; when he looks her in the eye, she looks away and runs. He’s worried, worried for Elle and her tenuous sanity. It doesn’t take a genius or a cynic to see that Adam is using Elle’s craziness to his advantage. And the more Adam pushes her, the closer she comes to snapping.

Peter broods in his lounge, staring out the small porthole at the expanse of stars. He wonders if Claude is looking up at the same patch of sky. Peter grins lopsidedly; probably not. Claude is probably too angry to think of him.

Peter looks up as the door slides open, revealing Adam in the doorway.

Adam smiles brightly. Peter smiles back, but feels the tension in it. He hasn’t seen Adam since he arrived on the station; it’s been long enough for doubts to form.

Adam takes his hand and pulls him to his feet. “I want to show you my work.”

Adam leads to him down the white halls of the station to a blue-lit lab. Steel and glass and laboratory tools. In the middle of the room is a stainless steel table, just the right size for a person. Four-point restraints are extruded from the metal of the table. Peter looks up at Adam, suddenly nervous. The chill of fear drips down his spine; he’s made a horrible mistake.

Adam smiles at him. “I’d like you to help me. We’ve captured a dangerous criminal who stole a formula from us. I need the formula for my work. I want you to use Eclipse to read her mind.”

Peter nods, nervous that a disagreement would go very badly at this point.

Adam lifts his hand and gestures with his skinsuit. The door at the far end of the lab slides open soundlessly. Elle propels another woman into the room, the woman’s arm twisted up behind her back. The woman is small with long black hair; she looks almost like Hiro Nakamura. The woman is kicking and screaming, twisting and fighting. Elle is stronger than the other woman, and she shoves her to her knees on the bare steel floor.

The woman looks up at Adam and sneers. “Adam,” she spits.

“Hello, Yaeko.” Adam smiles and tilts his head. “Are you ready to help me now?”

Yaeko meets his eyes levelly. “Never.” Her composure finally cracks, and her eyes are wild. “I won’t let you use my father’s work like this! He never meant it to—“

Adam’s eyes click to Elle, and the blonde woman grabs Yaeko by the hair, cutting her off and dragging her to her feet. The woman is thrown on to the table; Elle casually closes the restraints around her wrists and ankles.

Peter flinches and looks away; the woman may be a criminal, but no one deserves to be treated like this.

Adam casually strolls around the table, stopping by Yaeko’s head. “I know you think you’re doing the right thing, Yaeko. But you’re sadly mistaken. You see, my friend over there,” he looks up and meets Peter’s eyes. “He can read minds. He’s going to read your mind and he’s going to give me the formula. And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” He smiles softly. “Now tell me, Yaeko, what is the end of the formula?”

Peter steps forward, knowing his cue, and concentrates on Yaeko. The woman turns terrified eyes on him and struggles against her bonds. Peter thrusts aside his doubts and feels into the woman’s mind.

Her mind screams out, sharp like the blow of a knife. Her thoughts are in a language he can’t understand, but her emotions are clear as day. Anger and resentment, a fear that goes to the bone, and beneath it all, an image of a complex molecule chain.

“Get me a tablet, a datapad,” Peter croaks, trying desperately to hold on to the image. “Anything I can draw on.”

Elle slides a datapad and stylus into his hands, and Peter quickly scrawls the image from Yaeko in a frenzy of stolen genius. He closes his eyes as he finishes the chain, taking a deep breath.

He hands the datapad to Adam. “Is this what you were looking for?”

Adam scrolls through the datapad and smiles rapturously. “ _Yes_ ,” he sighs.

Yaeko screams a foreign obscenity. Adam waves a hand distractedly. Elle picks up a hypo-needle and presses it against the other woman’s neck. Yaeko sags and her head drops against the table with a sharp crack. Peter reaches out with Eclipse; she’s alive, but only just.

“What the hell is this?” he demands angrily, turning on Adam.

Adam looks at him with only half his attention, hands gesturing, his skinsuit already working Yaeko’s formula into something bigger.

“Years ago, I commissioned Yaeko’s father to engineer something for me. A virus. Something that would change everything. But for years, I had no opportunity to use it. Then Helix created Eclipse.” He reaches out and takes Peter’s hands. “And then there was you. You inspired me. You gave me vision.” He drops Peter’s hands and glances at Yaeko. “But Yaeko disagreed with where my research was heading. She decided to steal a part of my formula. Now I have it back.” In the far corner of the lab, a centrifuge starts spinning, and a replicator hums to life. “And now my work can go forward.”

Peter backs away from him. “You made a virus?”

“Yes.” Adam cocks his head, as though he doesn’t understand the problem.

“But viruses—they only kill. There’s no way to design a safe payload.”

“I know.” The corner of Adam’s mouth crooks up into a hint of a smile. “There isn’t supposed to a safe payload, Peter.”

Peter stares at him in horror. “What?”

Adam surges forward and grabs Peter’s arms. “I’m going to make us free. All of us. When the Ruling Council is dead, we’ll be free to decide our destinies.”

Peter pushes him away. “You don’t understand. Viruses mutate. This won’t stop with the Council! You’ll kill everybody they come into contact with!”

“Not everybody,” Elle remarks.

Peter’s head snaps around to stare at her. Elle shrugs and looks away.

Adam smiles proudly at her. “That’s right,” he says, turning back to Peter. “It won’t kill everyone. The virus is engineered to only attack inferior humans. Not people like us. Everyone augmented with Eclipse will be safe.”

Peter can only recoil in disgust.

Adam doesn’t seem to notice, fanaticism clouding his eyes. “A new race of humans, all of us with Eclipse. I’m going to be the father of a new species, with Elle and you at either hand. And we’ll rule them, the three of us. You’ll join me, Peter, won’t you?”

Peter fights the urge to run, to gag, to scream. He looks between Elle and Adam, frozen with the horror of his colossal mistake.

Elle stands to the side, torn.

Adam is smiling, glowing with righteousness.

“We’re going to wipe the world clean, Peter,” he says. “And then we’re going to remake it in our image. We’re going to be _gods_.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Adam has rejected our ultimatum.” Susan Amman stands with her fists planted on the Council table, and she sounds almost smug.

“Then it’s time,” Bob Bishop says.

Claude just watches with trepidation, knowing it’s too late to persuade them. Hundreds of people would die in their attack on Adam, and they don’t care.

Carlos Mendez gestures with his skinsuit, drawing up a projection above the table. Red blips of ships against the black of space, green blocks of space station, blue arrows of darts. “I volunteer the _Reliant_. She’s a carrier, with a full complement of fighters.”

Bob nods. “The _Olperu_ will join you.”

Susan surveys the council, watching as the projection changes to show the two ships moving against the station. “At 0600, the _Reliant_ and the _Olperu_ will launch. At 0630, when they breach the station’s space, they will launch fighters against Paragon-1. Adam has his own fleet of fighters, equal in numbers to our own, which he will launch from the station. Our darts will engage the fighters and the station.” She glances over at Claude. “We’ll try to inflict minimal damage.” She looks around and straightens up. “Let’s do this.”

\---

The _Olperu_ ’s hangar is crowded and noisy, filled with pilots and mechanics all shouting to be heard. Claude follows the numbers stenciled on the floor beneath each fighter. His assigned dart is at the far end of the bay, an older girl but still in good shape. He strokes her nose, remembering times when this used to be his life. He waves to the mechanic, a man engrossed in a conversation with another pilot, and climbs the ladder up the dart’s side.

Claude slips into the dart’s cockpit like he’d never left piloting. They’d found him a dart that didn’t require a skinsuit, piloted by switches and a yoke. Claude grins. It’s been more than ten years since the last time he flew. But he feels better in this cockpit than he has anywhere since the Ruling Council summoned him.

His mechanic waves him on, lining the dart up on the rails of the launch tube. Shooting out of the dark tunnel, the walls streaming by; susurrus of wind and acceleration into sudden silence. He rockets into the black of space. Only not so black: bright stars of propulsion engines, explosions of gunfire and death, set against the silver walls of Paragon-1.

His hands are tight on the dart’s yoke. This, he can do. Just stop thinking about the people in the other ships and fire until the rage in him subsides. He lines his sights on an enemy fighter.

A long breathless moment as his fingers tighten on the triggers. The enemy explodes and it all surges back on him. He remembers, his body remembers how to fight and kill, and all of a sudden it’s easy.

He banks to the left, swerves through fire, friendly and enemy alike, little explosions all around him. He opens his guns on an enemy fighter. An explosion and a splash of blood paints his dart bright red.

A swarm of enemy fighters launch from the station, silver darts crowned with the golden coronet of Paragon Industries. Adam’s mark on them. Rage fills Claude and he fires with ease. An enemy on a friend’s six; he drops behind, spraying them with bullets. He doesn’t wait for the explosion before he veers off, hearing the other pilot’s thanks tinny in his ears.

An explosion to his left, peppering him with a shower of flaming debris. Another fighter spins out of control, trailing smoke and flame, and smashes into the outer ring of the station, immolating it. The section strains, pulling tight and blossoming like a flower made of fire. Sparklers of flame and debris and bodies; Claude winces despite himself, knowing the loss of life. All the important people will be safe in the center spindle, which means only the support staff will die.

A blast of gunfire pulls him back to the fight. The enemy comes at him straight on, hiding in the glare of the sun. Claude nearly doesn’t see him until it’s too late. Screams a curse as he fires off a few rounds and barrel rolls to avoid his attacker. A lucky hit, destroying the enemy’s wing. He doesn’t stick around to see what happens to the other ship; it’s down for the count.

Another enemy on his six, the dart’s systems blaring warnings. Claude flips, turning. He barrels at the enemy fighter, racing each other to see who flinches first. Explosions echoing in his ears, light dancing across his face. Claude blinks. An eternity of a moment, then time slams back into being as the fighter only scores a glancing blow. Claude feels the wave of adrenaline surge higher; his every heart beat cries out _Peter_. And Claude knows he isn’t going to die today. He lets loose a spray of gunfire and the other fighter takes a hit, rolling and lolling. Claude allows himself a grim smile and pulls away.

He spirals and dives, weaving between fighters and little duels. Looking towards the station, he sees the hangar doors ponderously sliding shut. He can’t let that happen. He dives for the doors, sliding through. He clips the wall, tumbling into the hangar. He skids into a landing, his dart skipping across the floor accompanied by the scream of metal on metal.

The dart finally spins to a halt. Claude untangles himself from his harness and draws his guns. He looks around and pops his canopy. The hangar is in chaos, filled with damaged fighters and wounded pilots. No one notices yet another person in a jumpsuit.

Claude jumps down from his dart, and turns his eyes on the inner workings of the station.

He needs to get to Peter.

\---

“Adam,” it’s said quietly, hesitantly. Peter’s been quiet while the fighting raged outside. The station shook and each explosion brushed at the corners of his mind, filling him with echoes of sorrow and pain. But it’s gone on too long, there’s been too much death. Peter knows what he has to do.

Adam’s eyes focus as he drops out of the station’s net. “What is it, Peter?” He smiles. “Have you made a decision?”

Before Peter can speak, Elle looks up from her perch on a counter. Her eyes flicker, her mind intimately tied into the security system. “Someone’s coming this way,” she says, looking to Adam for direction. “Not one of ours.” Her forehead creases in confusion. “I can’t really feel him. He’s not on the net at all.”

Peter can’t help the surge of hope in his chest, though he keeps it from showing on his face. _Claude_.

Adam glances sideways at him, and the little smirk pulling at his lips lets Peter know he’s been read. Adam’s gaze slips back to Elle, his smirk replaced by a look of mild annoyance. “Then go after him. Do whatever you have to do to keep him from interrupting us.” Adam’s eyes are on the spinning centrifuge. He says softly, “We must not be interrupted now.”

“Adam,” Peter says again, drawing his attention. “Have you really thought about what you’re doing?” He’s trying to stay calm, talk Adam down.

Adam’s smiles that enigmatic smile of his. “Of course. I’ve been planning this for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Even if you kill all the—the inferior people,” the phrase turns to ash in his mouth, “it won’t fix everything.” He shakes his head. “It’ll only make this worse. How many people do you think have actually downloaded Eclipse? A couple million, a billion at most? We’re spread all across the Conglomerate. And everyone will be in a panic once people start dying.” Peter tilts his head, a horrible idea creeping into his mind. “You were counting on that, though. You were hoping that they’d be scared; it would make everyone that much easier to control.”

Adam beams, as though he’s proud of Peter’s deduction. “Exactly. Linderman taught me that lesson well. Frightened people are lost; they are just crying out for someone to lead them. And I will be that leader.” His smile turns sharp and thin. “Are you going to help me, Peter?”

“I trusted you,” Peter accuses quietly.

A long silence draws between them.

The moment is broken by the sudden cessation of noise from the equipment. The centrifuge spins to a halt, one small vial of clear liquid dispensed from the plastic casing. Adam cries out in triumph and grabs hold of the fateful virus.

“I’m sorry,” Peter says, almost to himself. Then he raises his hand and shoots an arc of lightning across the space between them. Adam gasps and tumbles to the floor, vial still tightly gripped in his charred hands. Peter, sick on betrayal and the smell of burnt flesh, pries the glass tube from his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

He walks out of the lab on unsteady legs, vial clutched against his chest. He tries to stop the flow of tears, knows Adam doesn’t deserve them. But he trusted Adam, and he mourns the man he thought he was.

Then he’s tackled from behind. Peter grunts as he’s knocked to the ground, the vial just escaping shattering. Adam flips him over, strangely strong, hands ripping to get to the virus. Peter twists away from his attacker, landing a solid punch on the other man’s chin.

Adam keeps coming, eyes crazed and unseeing. Peter knows that he truly means to kill him. He fights Adam off, squirming to his feet. There’s an airlock at the end of the hall; if he can jettison the virus, he can stop Adam’s insanity.

Peter runs, Adam close behind. Adam is shouting, pleading with him.

Peter wrenches open the heavy airlock door, putting Eclipse behind his body’s strength. He tosses the vial into the airlock, and shoves on the door.

Adam madly shoves him out of the way, stumbling to his knees in the lock.

Peter tumbles against the door, watching in horror as it slams shut.

Adam looks up at the echoing thud of the door. The virus is clutched to his chest, his face a picture of surprise. “Peter, what are you doing?”

Peter knows it’s too late; he’ll never be able to get the virus away from Adam again. The decision’s already been made for him.

“Put the virus down, Adam. Put it down and I’ll open the door. You don’t have to do this.”

Adam stands and faces him, watching him through the thick glass of the airlock door. “I do. I have to make the world… _better_.”

“You can stop. I’ll help you.” Peter pleads, “You’re a good man, I know you are. Let it go and I can save you.”

“I don’t need your saving,” Adam snaps. “And I’m not going to give up on decades of work.”

“Please,” Peter begs. “Don’t make me do this.”

Adam stares at him with dead blue eyes. “I’ll never stop, Peter. I won’t stop until I lay this world to waste.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter breathes.

He closes his eyes and presses the button.

A klaxon warning sounds, the lock opens and there is a rush of air.

Peter wraps his arms tightly around himself as Adam’s body spirals out into star-studded nothingness.


	9. Chapter 9

Claude runs down the white hallways, following the red stripe that leads to the station’s laboratories. His gun is clenched tightly in his hand, his eyes roving the branching passages. The station is suspiciously empty; he hasn’t been confronted once since he left the hangar. There has to be more security than this.

He isn’t expecting Adam’s security to be a little blonde woman.

The girl steps out from one of the hallways. She’s quite beautiful, black jumpsuit adorned with Paragon sigils; long blonde hair but a cruel smile. She struts forward on old-fashioned high heels. Hips cant to the side and she tilts her head playfully.

“Hi,” she chirps. “I’m Elle. Who’re you?”

Claude doesn’t bother to speak, just whips up his gun and shoots.

The shot ricochets off the wall; Elle flinches and ducks. She straightens up with a laugh.

“That was naughty.” She raises her hands, a blue nimbus crackling around her fingers. “My turn.”

Claude ducks, knowing what’s coming. An arc of lightning shoots above his head, loud sizzle of electricity and smell of scorched ozone. He hits the hard floor with a grunt, feeling it in old bones, and rolls. A laugh and a spark follows him.

Claude rolls again, managing to get his gun free and in position. He looks up and catches a flash of his opponent. He shoots, and is gratified to hear a pained cry. He clambers to his feet, gun trained on her.

Elle is doubled over, clutching at her arm. He’s just grazed her upper arm, but she’s obviously not used to being in pain. She whimpers as she wraps her hand around the wound, staunching the flow of blood. Claude squashes his feelings of pity; she’s not just a girl, she’s an enemy.

He rushes up and tackles her, grabbing her around the waist and tossing her to the floor. The girl cries out as she hits, blood splattering on the white floor. Claude follows her down, gun hovering over her face.

Elle’s forehead suddenly creases in a confused frown. “Hey, do I know you, mister?”

Claude cocks his head, recognition ticking at the back of his mind. But he doesn’t have time for this; he knocks her unconscious with a blow from the butt of his blaster.

He leaves her unconscious on the floor and heads the way she came. Adam relies on Eclipse; it figures his last line of defense would be an Eclipse-enhanced assassin.

He’s jogging down the hall when he hears a scuffle, and shouting. He smiles grimly; where there’s trouble, that’s where Peter will be.

He finds him at the end of the hall, slumped against an airlock door.

Claude grabs Peter and cups his face is his hands. He kisses Peter, roughly and full of emotion. “You stupid idiot,” he snarls and rests his forehead against Peter’s. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Peter grasps at Claude’s forearms and tries to smile for his lover. “I promise.”

\---

Everything was in shambles.

The newswaves had gotten hold of Adam’s story and broadcast it across the Conglomerate. People had lost faith in the Ruling Council, and the up-and-coming companies were calling for votes of no-confidence on the current councilors. It would probably be years before Rados, or the Conglomerate, established any sort of status quo. First his planet, and now the Conglomerate. And it was all Peter’s fault, again.

He’d avoided the bureaucracy this time, refusing to speak to any Council officials. Instead, he had found the first low-tech ship headed back to Onale VII. Claude had put up with his moods and his desperation to go home, watching him silently.

Things have changed between them, and Peter hates that he’d been the cause for it. He’d chosen a virtual stranger over his lover, had doubted Claude’s instincts. He wouldn’t be surprised if Claude left him. He almost expects him to.

“What are you thinking?” Claude stares at him, blue eyes too sharp, from across the ship’s— _La Rosa_ ’s—lounge. He’s sitting, slouched in a worn chair; at least this ship is rich enough to afford artificial gravity.

Peter snorts and wraps his arms around himself. “Since when do we talk about feelings, especially mine?”

Claude shrugs. “We’ve got the time now. It seemed appropriate.”

Peter laughs, hearing the tears behind his voice. “How do you think I feel? A megalomaniac convinced me to be a part of his plan to kill the majority of humanity. I hate myself!” he whips around, not willing to see the mixed emotions on his lover’s face. He says softly, almost to himself, “How could I be so stupid? How could I be taken in like that?”

Claude wisely says nothing, just letting Peter rage.

Peter can feel tears prickling at his eyes, and angrily shoves them back. “And you know what the worst part about all this is?” He can hear Claude moving behind him, but doesn’t look up. “I really liked Adam. I _trusted_ him. I would have done anything not to have had to kill him.” Adam’s body hadn’t been recovered. Most assumed it had been vaporized by one of the fighters, or else pulled into the planet’s obit, burnt up upon reentry. But Peter can’t shake the feeling that he hasn’t seen the last of Adam Monroe.

Claude moves up from behind and puts his hands on Peter’s shoulders. Peter sags back against his lover’s broad chest, accepting the offered comfort.

“You did what had to be done,” Claude says quietly.

“I know.” Peter closes his eyes. “But that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Adam was a monster, Peter; it’s okay to hate him.” Claude pauses, and adds begrudgingly. “It’s also okay to forgive him. It’s okay to grieve.”

Peter turns and tucks himself against his lover’s chest. Safe in Claude’s embrace, Peter finally lets the tears come.

Surrounded by starlight, there is only the two of them, wrapped in each other’s arms.


End file.
